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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24186844">Avatar: The Last Waterbender</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightsrk/pseuds/Nightsrk'>Nightsrk</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Gen, Katara is the Avatar, Not LOK Compliant, author has no interest in being polite or heterosexual, look i love his arc but i didnt want to write sexism so its dysphoria blues hours instead, note: the major character death is aang, sokka is very long suffering, trans man sokka, who is technically dead but will still be around i promise</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:08:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,397</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24186844</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightsrk/pseuds/Nightsrk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On the day Katara is born, a dead boy is found in an iceberg.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>110</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue: Not Supposed To Be Here</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! Welcome! I Really Am Writing ATLA Fic In This, The Year Of Our Lord, 2020</p><p>Note: Aang is technically dead and there's some moderate descriptions of his corpse in this here prologue, but I assure you, he has not been written out of the story and will remain one of the most important characters.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The iceberg was as high as a warship was long, and perfectly circular. An eerie, unsettling blue glowed from within its frozen core, dark shadows distorting the surface. Like something was trapped inside.</p><p>“Well,” says Hakoda, “That’s not supposed to be here.”</p><p>Lirin makes an agreeable noise, shielding her eyes from the sun with one oversized mitten, glaring up at the iceberg. “It wasn’t here when Taluk and I went spear-fishing three suns ago,” she says. “Must be a floater.”</p><p>“Drifting in from <i>where</i>?” Hakoda asks, shaking his head. “It’s not the season for it.”</p><p>The air in the south is frigid in the summer. Now, approaching winter, the days are short enough that only one meal of five is with the sun, and the air can freeze inside of one's mouth, if they talk too much. Not that that stops Lirin or Yuhi.</p><p>Kya, nearly ready to give birth to their second child, has been taking naps at midday to rest, and missing the sunlight hours entirely. It feels, she keeps saying, like It’s already midwinter, and the sun has disappeared already. </p><p>The baby, when they come, will be raised in the darkness. And Kya will have to suffer the long night having already been missing the sun.</p><p>“It’s blocking the sealing grounds,” Lirin says, cutting through Hakoda’s musing about their winter night baby, about how Kya is going to laugh at him if he comes home empty handed for his boasting this morning. “Who cares where it came from. How are we going to move it? There’s no waterbenders left.”</p><p>There’s not. There may never be another waterbender in the south. And if there is -</p><p>Well.</p><p>They may not be in the south for long. The ashy black snow from the Fire Nation raids has left it’s dirty residue on the south pole like bloodstains on woven cloth. It’s been many seasons since the last raid, but the south is far too grim about its practicality to assume they will never return.</p><p>Hakoda sighs, glaring up at the iceberg. “We’ll have to figure something out,” he says. “Our stores are in decent shape, but it’s looking to be a long winter. I’d prefer it if we didn’t come home empty handed.”</p><p>“You,” Lirin says, snickering, “Just don’t want Kya to mock you for what you said at first meal. What was it? <i>I could catch a tigerseal on a drift without my mukluks on</i>.”</p><p>“Hey,” Hakoda protests, even though he absolutely said that and Kya will absolutely mock him for it later. “I didn’t say anything about <i>mysterious icebergs</i>!”</p><p>---</p><p>In the end, it doesn’t take much to move the iceberg. Lirin, still holding on to her end of the kayak, kicks it twice and stumbles in the powdery snow on the ice floe. The ice groans like a wounded harefox, thin, veinlike cracks rapidly whistling through it and spreading, cracking, growing wide and deep and there’s already shards cascading onto the floe -</p><p>“Shit,” Hakoda says, stumbling. “Get back, get <i>back</i>!”</p><p>Half the iceberg sheers right off the top, cracking through the fractured ice flow on the left side and sending water streaking over the formerly stable platform of ice they’re standing on, rocking the shards against each other. Lirin barks out a noise of alarm as Hakoda loses his footing, slipping down the sharp ice far enough that his mukluks kiss the water before her hand closes around his, holding him onto the ice floe. The rest of the iceberg cracks down the middle, air hissing out like it’s been compressed in a pierced fishbladder, and a <i>wall</i> of light pierces the sky.</p><p>Hakoda can feel the heat of it searing the back of his eyelids.</p><p>The shard settles back flat on the water, bobbing like a dead salmoncarp. Blinking rapidly to clear the sunspots from his dazzled eyes, Hakoda can just barely make out the ruined outline of the iceberg and Lirin, trying to wipe her eyes clear. There’s already ice crystallizing in Hakoda’s beard from breathing too hard, and one of Lirin’s eyes is frosted shut, tears crystallizing on her ruddy cheeks.</p><p>“Lirin,” he growls.</p><p>“That wasn’t me!” she protests, scrambling to her feet on the suddenly slick surface of the ice, all the powdered snow washed away. The front of their parkas are already hard and crunchy. “Where’s our kayak?”</p><p>Hakoda, who distinctly remembers the crunch of crushed wood between ice, sighs. Their food supplies were in that kayak, dried seal and sweet vetch. He forces himself to his feet, the freezing skins of his mukluks crunching as the thin layer of ice breaks off under his weight. He looks at the remains of the iceberg- hopefully they’ve at least restored access to the sealing grounds.</p><p>He blinks, trying to rub the last of the sunspots out of his eyes, but can’t. There’s nothing to clear.</p><p>The broken remains of the iceberg are half curled around something large and soaking wet and furry. And, by the feet of the massive creature is</p><p>“Shit,” Lirin swears, already leaping to the next ice floe. “That’s a kid!”</p><p>It is a kid. Bald, with an arrow inked into his head. His skin would have been pale, if it hadn’t been so purple from frost burn. He’s wearing only cloth, and thin layers.</p><p>“Is he?” asks Lirin. Hakoda rests his fingers over the place where a pulse would be, just to be sure, but isn’t surprised when he finds nothing but frozen skin.</p><p>He shakes his head. Lirin sighs, picking up some kind of staff still half frozen to the ice. She kicks it a few times, despite what happened last time she kicked this iceberg.</p><p>Nothing spectacular happens this time. She weighs the funny stick in her hands, shrugs, and tucks it into her shoulder belt with her wolf jaw spear.</p><p>“Come on,” says Hakoda, pushing at the boy's body to test if he can pry the corpse out of the ice without having to hack pieces off. “Let’s bury him in the floe, and figure out a way home.”</p><p>---</p><p>By the time they make it home, slow with cold and hunger, half blind from the dark, with no seal and not even the kayak they left in, Hakoda is fit for nothing but rest and warmth. At the very least, they can return and attempt the sealing grounds tomorrow, the passage freed from the strange icebergs blockade.</p><p>Instead of Kya, sleeping on their bed and MaeMae entertaining Sokka with stories of Hama and the other waterbenders quietly by the lamp, he enters his tent to find Kya awake, MaeMae fussing over her. Kya, radiant, exhausted, looks up at him and smiles. A bundle of furs held over her newly flat tummy, a tiny little face visible through the gaps in the furs.</p><p>“Meet Katara,” says Kya.</p><p>---</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>next chapter title: Something That Can Burn</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Something That Can Burn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Katara scowls at the seal oil lamp sitting on the rug of her tent. Her flint is still tucked away next to her beading supplies, and the lamp still isn’t on fire.</p>
<p>Katara glares. The lamp does nothing. She points an accusatory finger at it, and there’s not so much as a spark. Frustrated, she gets up and jumps angrily, her feet meeting the hard packed ice beneath the rug and hide of the tent with a thump. Still, the fat soaked cottongrass refuses to catch.</p>
<p>She sighs, sitting back down.</p>
<p>She sniffs.</p>
<p>“What’s that smell?” she asks.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>The smell was the hide of the tent catching fire.</p>
<p>Katara had stared at it wide-eyed as the tent began to blacken near the top, orange tongues of flame licking at the hide and the caribou femur struts, until Sokka had thrown open the flap of the tent and dragged her out by her biceps, cursing. GranGran and Sokka had pulled the tent apart before the fire got too large, throwing the hide into a snowbank and stomping on it until the fire went out.</p>
<p>The hide was largely unsalvageable, but no one was hurt and nothing else was damaged. GranGran even made Katara a cup of tea to drink instead of yelling. She curls her fingers around it tighter, digging her still bare toes into the snow. She’s shivering, but not from the cold.</p>
<p>“Here,” says Sokka gruffly, dropping her mukluks in front of her, and then unfolding the furs draped around his arm to throw them over her shoulders. “Are you alright?”</p>
<p>Katara blinks at him absently, and then nods.</p>
<p><i>There is great power within you</i>. </p>
<p>“Good,” he says, and throws himself onto the snow across from her, glaring. “Then what were you <i>thinking</i>? What happened? Did you spill the lamp or something? Why was it on the rug, Katara? You’re not supposed to put a <i>burning lamp</i> on something that can burn! You could have been seriously hurt.”</p>
<p>Katara looks at him. She opens her mouth to say something, and closes it because she doesn’t know what to say.</p>
<p><i>There is great power within you</i>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Katara?” Sokka prompts, leaning forward. He’s getting that furrow in his brow, the one he gets when Katara starts crying over the beadwork moccasins that used to belong to Mom.</p>
<p>She opens her mouth again, closing her eyes and pressing one hand to the ache over her brow. Her fingers are hot from the tea. It feels nice.</p>
<p>“I had this dream,” she rasps finally.</p>
<p><i>There is great power within you</i>, The shadow is small, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. He doesn’t speak, he speaks with the voice of a thousand people all talking at once, he’s old but also ageless and Katara <i>knows</i> him. <i>There is great power within you</i>, he said, and Katara woke up choking on it.</p>
<p>“A dream,” Sokka says flatly. “Katara, what is going <i>on</i>?”</p>
<p>She opens her eyes. The snow is dazzling, even though it’s late evening. The sun won’t go down except for the wee hours around midnight, and eventually the sun will stay in the sky for days at a time. The long day.</p>
<p>“Sokka,” she tells him. “I think I might be the Avatar.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Once Sokka is finished squawking and laughing and pointing, he fetches GranGran. Katara pulls her mukluks on, finishes her tea, and stomps after him. GranGran and Kikkiq are cutting away what little of the hidecover can be salvaged from her poor attempt at firebending.</p>
<p><i>Firebending</i>. Like the person that - like the large warships that would come and crack apart the ice, squealing in the cold. She firebended, just like <i>them</i>. She just didn’t know what else to <i>do</i>.</p>
<p>“I think Katara might have midnight sun madness,” Sokka says, flopping down onto the snow and pulling the leather scraps onto his lap.. “Hey, do you think we can stitch this together with Taqqiq’s tigerseal hide to fix the tent?”</p>
<p>“I do not have midnight sun madness!” Katara fumes. “I’m fine!”</p>
<p>“You set the tent on fire.” Sokka points out, gesturing with the leather scraps, and there’s a <i>lot</i> of burned hide, she absolutely <i>ruined</i> the tent like firebending <i>always</i> does.</p>
<p>“I was <i>trying</i>,” she stresses. “To light the lamp.”</p>
<p>“Well, you missed!”</p>
<p>Katara throws her hands up. “I’ve never firebended before!” she protests. “Sometimes things combust! I think. I’m pretty sure that’s how firebending works.”</p>
<p>All the firebenders she’s ever heard of light things on fire all the time. That’s all firebending seems to be, is burning and destroying. She must be a goddamn <i>prodigy</i>, ruining something on her very first attempt.</p>
<p>“Pretty sure that’s <i>not</i> how it works and <i>also</i>, you’re not the Avatar!” Sokka shoots back, crossing his arms.</p>
<p>GranGran stands up, dropping the remains of the charred hide to the snow. Katara grimaces, guilty. The tents take up more pelts than any other construction project. Ruining theirs might take the next six hunts to collect enough skins to fix. </p>
<p>“Firebending?” GranGran asks, rubbing at the formless bend of her knees through the tunic. “Avatar? Katara, what happened?”</p>
<p>“I had a dream,” Katara says, gesturing back at Sokka rudely. The gritty remains of the tea she’s still holding sloshed out onto her fingers. “And I was thinking about it, and the lamp was <i>right there</i>, and I figured I could, you know.”</p>
<p>“Light the tent on fire?” Sokka asks.</p>
<p>“It was an <i>accident</i>,” she protests, louder, even though one bad accident is all it takes in the south to kill a person, to end a household.</p>
<p>“A dream?” asks GranGran calmly, cutting through their bickering. “Katara, come. I’ll make more tea. Tell me what you dreamed about.”</p>
<p>----</p>
<p>She dreamed about the south pole, but it wasn’t really the south pole. The peaks of the ice were wrong, the shadows oddly red. Black snow fell from the sky. And there was a shadow in front of her. A boy, though he had no features she could discern. She just <i>knew</i>.</p>
<p><i>There is great power within you</i>, said the boy without a mouth. There were too many voices in his, hundreds of people speaking in unison. <i>There is great power within you</i>.</p>
<p>The wind whistled sharply over the empty ice. There were no arctic camel tracks, nor the lines of a tigerseal dragging itself over the ice. No otterpenguins, with their four flippers and stilted waddling.</p>
<p>She was alone, but for the shadow with a thousand voices.</p>
<p><i>There is great power within you</i>, he said again. Katara threw her hands over her eyes to block the light suddenly emanating from all around him, an eerie blue-white.</p>
<p>It hurt.</p>
<p><i>Katara</i>, said the voice, but it wasn’t really her name. It was a thousand names all said at once, all mingling together.</p>
<p>But Katara heard <i>Katara</i>, and then she woke up.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>“So you decided to set the tent on fire.” Sokka says, sipping his tea. “Great plan.”</p>
<p>“It was an <i>accident</i>!” Katara wails, frustrated.</p>
<p>“<i>You set the tent on fire</i>!” Sokka repeats. “You couldn’t - I don’t know what the Avatar does. Throw rocks? We <i>hate</i> the Fire Nation!”</p>
<p>“There are no <i>rocks</i> in the <i>South Pole</i> Sokka! I needed to try <i>something</i>!” </p>
<p>“The lamp was made out of soapstone!”</p>
<p>“One measly little chunk of rock surrounded by all this ice! How was I supposed to do anything but waterbend?”</p>
<p>“So you went for <i>magic fire</i>?” Sokka asks, his voice hitting a pitch that could shatter a glacier “The magic water is bad enough!”</p>
<p> Katara gestures, “Earthbending needs earth!”</p>
<p>“Says who?”</p>
<p>“Says me!”</p>
<p>GranGran takes a loud sip from her tea, raising a brow. Sokka coughs, and gestures expansively to her.</p>
<p>“Katara,” GranGran says calmly “How were you holding the flint, when you were attempting to firebend?”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t,” she folds her arms across her chest defensively. They don’t believe her, but she knows the pull of bending, even if she couldn’t recognize it for what it was at first.. “The flint is still with my beading.”</p>
<p>“Sparks could have blown off the communal fire,” Sokka points out when GranGran hums. “The tent set on fire, not the lamp. Maybe it was from the outside!”</p>
<p>Katara sticks her tongue out at him, annoyed and - </p>
<p>The dream. All day she’s been feeling like there’s arctic honeywasps in her bones, driven to madness by the burning summer sun. She had tried to ignore, truly, had attempted to set it outside with all the other midnight sun dreams. She tried to scrub away the dream with the sweat out of the laundry, tried to darn the cloth undertunics that are waiting to be repaired for summer, like fixing the cloth would fix her head. She was ignoring it, and working, and moving on, and she was <i>thinking about it</i> like she couldn’t think of anything else.</p>
<p>And then she <i>tried</i>. And the tent caught fire. And she was the one who did it, she knows she is. There was a pull at her core that she recognized, a warmth in her lungs.</p>
<p>GranGran <i>hmms</i> again. </p>
<p>“It was me,” Katara says. “I know it was.”</p>
<p>GranGran smiles, gentle, and disbelieving. “I know you are meant for great things, Katara.”</p>
<p><i>There is great power within you</i>.</p>
<p>Katara’s not even a waterbender, can’t be one. Not here, not with no others to teach her. Of course she could never be more.</p>
<p>But she is. She <i>is</i>.</p>
<p>Katara sets her teacup down and stomps off, clutching the furs Sokka brought her tighter around her shoulders.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>There’s no rocks on the ice.</p>
<p>With a kayak she could go west to the curving peninsula inland closer to Karrio village, where she and GranGran and Kiha forage for grasses and berries, but it’s a long journey and she doesn’t actually have a kayak. The ground out west is more frozen dirt than stone, as well, and Katara doesn’t know enough about earthbenders to know if that’s okay. Would the permafrost make bending the dirt actually waterbending? Can she even bend dirt?</p>
<p>She jumps around on the snow until a breeze picks up, but she’s fairly sure it’s just a breeze. Katara isn’t interested in setting herself on fire this time, so she nixes that. And there’s no rocks.</p>
<p>She waterbends halfheartedly, frustrated and confused. The water obeys sluggishly, shedding droplets, wavering at the edges instead of the perfect ribbon Katara likes to imagine real waterbenders command.</p>
<p>The sun is still in the sky when she returns to the village, chilled and hungry. She’s missed the last two meals of the day. The place where her and Sokka’s tent was set up has been repaired with Taqqiq’s tigerseal skin, the proof of her half-failed firebending all but wiped away.</p>
<p>Sokka and the mothers and GranGran are sitting around the communal fire. They’ve put up a tarp to shield it from the wind. Katara, bitter, and angry, and sure of herself sits near where the children are playing hunter and penguins. She watches them halfheartedly, raising a brown when Makara runs over to her instead of hunting the penguins. </p>
<p>“Are you really the Avatar?” Makara asks her in a childish hush, peering up at her with big moony eyes.</p>
<p>Oh. “Yes,” Katara says evenly. “I think so.”</p>
<p>“Does this mean Dad is going to come back?” Makara asks, picking at her chapped lips. “Mom cries a lot.”</p>
<p>Katara’s chest aches.</p>
<p>“I hope so,” she says. Is able to muster up a watery smile. “I miss my dad, too.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Sokka and GranGran are sleeping when Katara slips out of the tent. It’s finally dark, even though it’s not <i>truly</i> dark. There’s still the creep of red dawn at the horizon, for all the moon hangs in the center sky.</p>
<p>She takes one of the canoes, so she’ll be able to sleep in the bottom at night. She started squirreling food out of the pantry after Makara had returned to her game, had begun packing furs into a hidden cranny, finding her icefall gear, ensuring she has enough red tea for her next moon.</p>
<p>The canoe hits the water with a quiet splash. Katara tucks away her pack of things in the front, and casts about for the oar she - didn’t grab. She sighs, irritated. Of all the things to forget.</p>
<p>There’s a crunch behind her. Katara stiffens, turning to glare at Sokka, who raises an eyebrow at her. He’s in his parka, and there’s a heavy bag slung over one of his shoulders.</p>
<p>He raises the oar he’s carrying. “Looking for this?”</p>
<p>The ice grinds under Katara’s knee as she straightens to glare at him. “What are you doing here?” she asks, voice sharp.</p>
<p>Sokka shrugs, even though Katara can see the way his shoulders tense up. “Going with you,” he says. “You might be weird and freakish, but you’re my weird and freakish sister. And someone needs to keep the Fire Nation off your butt. Even if you’re just a waterbender. And if you’re not - Dad told me to protect you.”</p>
<p>“Sokka…” Katara blinks and looks away, eyes stinging.</p>
<p>“So that’s settled,” the snow squeaks under his mukluks, and he drops the heavy bag into the back of the canoe, making it rock. “I got rations and then some, but you better have packed food for yourself. Who knows how long we’ll be on open water? And I’ve got furs- did you bring a change of underclothes? We’re going to be cold on the open water.”</p>
<p>Katara sniffs. “Yes,” she croaks, and they both ignore how wet her voice is. “I packed everything I thought I would need.”</p>
<p>“Not everything.”</p>
<p>Katara looks up to see GranGran holding more furs under her arm, and a long wooden stick that had belonged to Lirin, before she and the other warriors had set off to the Earth Kingdom to fight the Fire Nation.</p>
<p>GranGran smiles at them, her wrinkled face both pleased and sorrowful under the dim light of the midnight dawn. “You forgot these. And your goodbyes.”</p>
<p>GranGran presses the staff into Katara’s hands, and then pulls her into a hug. “My brave waterbender,” she says, squeezing Katara tight enough it almost aches. Katara squeezes back, clutching the strange wooden stick with her clumsy fingers. “My brave <i>Avatar</i>,” she corrects. “It’s been so long since I’ve had hope.” she murmurs, almost in the cadence she tells stories in, like she’s going to welcome them back to sit around a bonfire and speak of Tui and La.</p>
<p>Already, Katara aches because she does not know when she will get to hear the story again. Not in GranGran’s voice, drinking the correct tea, sitting with her shoulders pressed to Sokka and Kiha.</p>
<p>“You are the world's only chance.” GranGran says, pulling back. Katara meets her eyes steadily, even though she doesn’t feel very brave. “And I, for one, think you will do well.”</p>
<p>Katara smiles through the blurry tears in her eyes. GranGran’s grip keeps her warm even after she lets go and turns to Sokka. “My brave warrior,” she says. “Be nice to your sister.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, okay GranGran,” he grouses, smiling.</p>
<p>“Be brave, both of you.” she says. “Be vigilant. Be <i>kind</i>.”</p>
<p>When Sokka pushes them off the ice, Katara doesn’t look back.</p>
<p>---</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>next chapter: Sacred Ground</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Sacred Ground</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>After this the chapters start getting longer thank goodness</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I could probably waterbend us,” Katara points out, letting her fingers brush the surface of the open water.</p>
<p>“The last time you bended anything,” Sokka reminds her through gritted teeth, rowing sluggishly in the choppy water. “You set our tent on fire.”</p>
<p>Katara rolls her eyes, scowling. “That was <i>firebending</i>,” she says. “I’ve never firebended before. You could let me row.”</p>
<p>“Absolutely not,” he snaps. “You, sit there. Do something that won’t end in us drowning, or burning alive. Rowing is a man’s job.”</p>
<p>Katara snorts.</p>
<p>Sokka is weird about what men do and what women do, and living in a camp with only the mothers and their children hasn’t helped. All the hunters and warriors had left two years ago to assist the Earth Kingdom in the war against the Fire Nation, <i>including</i> the able women, leaving Sokka as the only man in the camp.</p>
<p>He’s drawn a line between what he likes and is good at, and what the mothers like and are good at, as <i>jobs for men</i> and <i>jobs for women</i>. </p>
<p>Katara thinks it’s a little silly. Sometimes it’s irritating, especially when he refuses to darn his own socks. Sokka doesn’t need to justify the fact that he’s a man because he’s skilled at hunting and Katara is clever with needle and thread.</p>
<p>But then, she’s never had to worry about other people thinking she’s a woman. GranGran says Sokka will get over it when the warriors return, when Sokka can perform the ice dodging ceremony that will mark him as beginning the path of being a <i>true</i> warrior, an able man.</p>
<p>And he <i>will</i> perform it, GranGran would say, when Sokka worried over what Dad would think, what judgements he may pass. You’re a man as your father is, no matter of anything else.</p>
<p>Katara sighs, focussing back on the endless horizon. “Okay,” she says. “Wake me when you see land.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>She stands on an endless sea. There’s no waves, no ripples in the water except around her, where her feet rest on top of the glassy surface.</p>
<p>The sky is red. A crescent moon hangs in the sky. She steps, and the water is firm beneath her feet, though not solid. If she steps wrong, she’ll sink. She knows it.</p>
<p><i>Katara</i>.</p>
<p>Katara turns. Behind her looms a massive mountain range, and at the top - some kind of structure. Like a castle from the storybook Dad had brought home after trading, years ago. When Mom still read to her before nightfall. The towering spire is broken. The walls are crimson. The trees around it are barren. It looms from the center of the mountain range like it’s being offered up to something beyond the clouds.</p>
<p><i>Katara</i>.</p>
<p>A boy stands before the island, also on the surface of the water. He’s close enough to touch, he’s endlessly far away. He has no features.</p>
<p>Katara knows him.</p>
<p><i>Katara</i>, says the boy with a thousand voices. <i>Katara</i>.</p>
<p>She opens her mouth.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>“Katara wake up!” Sokka’s heavy hand on her shoulder jostles her back into awareness, the harsh sunlight painful and unwelcome. “Look!”</p>
<p>She complains, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with her bare hand (and isn’t it strange, to be in a place where she can leave her hands uncovered and expect to wake up with them moving, alive, unharmed?) awkwardly sitting up in the basin of the rocking canoe.</p>
<p>Before her lies a mountain range. A familiar mountain range- peaks like upturned icicles piercing the heavens. In the center, just barely visible, is a taller, thinner spire. Not a mountain peak- a tower.</p>
<p><i>The Southern Air Temple</i>, a young voice whines in her ears <i>The Potola mountains</i>.</p>
<p>
  <i>Home</i>
</p>
<p>“I dreamed about this place,” Katara hears herself say without really thinking about it. “There’s an Air Temple in the center of it.”</p>
<p>Sokka tilts his head, scrunching his eyebrows together, and then shrugs. “Okay. Magic dreams. Whatever. Going <i>around</i> - “</p>
<p>“No!” Katara lurches forward, and then freezes when the canoe rocks ominously in the choppy water - the wind is picking up, catching her braid at the tail. “I think - I think I have to go there, Sokka.”</p>
<p>Sokka makes a face, “Katara… do you really think it’s a good idea?”</p>
<p>Yes. No. There’s a yawning void at the core of her, she thinks, and there’s answers ahead.</p>
<p>“We have to go,” she says, and doesn’t answer Sokka’s question. “We <i>need</i> to go.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>It’s one thing to say that they need to go to the mountains. It’s another to be standing at the foot of them, canoe safely dragged up the rocky… not quite beach, more like low cliffs dropping into the sea, and secured to a jutting rock.</p>
<p>Sokka whistles, head tipped all the way back. “How are we supposed to get up <i>that</i>?”</p>
<p>Katara hisses a breath out from between clenched teeth. “I don’t know,” she admits. The rocky spires are smooth and gray, the foliage spare. There’s still more green than she’s ever seen, even in the summer when the sweet vetch and cottongrass is poking up near Karrio village. </p>
<p>“Ooookay.” Sokka glances at her, looks back up at the mountains. “Your magic spirit dreams didn’t say anything about what to do?”</p>
<p>Katara scowls, irritated, and turns to face him. “I don’t know! I don’t know what’s going on <i>either</i>. I’m just - I don’t know what to do! But we <i>have</i> to get up there.”</p>
<p>Sokka raises his brows, unimpressed. “Okay,” he says, nodding sharply “Fine. No earthbending - seriously, Katara. Don’t make that face. If you drop us halfway up a cliff, we’ll die. There’s rope in the canoe. We can… it’ll be like ice climbing, on the falls. How many pegs do we have?”</p>
<p>“Sokka…” </p>
<p>“Don’t give me that face! I promised GranGran I’d look after you. If that means climbing up death mountain, I’ll do it.”</p>
<p>They have ten ice pegs, more than enough rope, a hammer, and four axes - both Katara and Sokka had taken equipment for climbing. Katara had been thinking about the sheer terror of getting trapped between icebergs and realizing there’s no way out but up. Sokka, probably the same. Dad had lectured them on ice climbing again and again, how dangerous it was, how important it was to have your equipment. They’d both seen what happened to Kira when she fell, the way she lingered on for days with badly shattered legs she couldn’t feel, because her backbone had snapped like an icicle.</p>
<p>“Do you think these will go in the rock?” Katara asks, turning the peg around in her hand. It’s metal, made in the earth kingdom and traded for a fortune of seal furs.</p>
<p>“They’ll have to,” Sokka says grimly, stepping into the looped over rope harness. “Come on, let’s get you set up. I’ll take the lead, and you’ll come up below me. Unscrew each peg when you hit it at the bottom, and then pass it up when you’ve got three. That way we have a safety if one of us falls.”</p>
<p>“Sokka…”</p>
<p>“I have a longer reach than you! And stronger arms. I need to be in the lead.”</p>
<p>“It’s <i>dangerous</i>.”</p>
<p>“Yep,” Sokka smiles thinly. “But we have to do this, right?”</p>
<p>They do. They really, <i>really</i> do.</p>
<p>“Wait,” Katara says, tugging at the rope. “Hold on.”</p>
<p>She scrambles back to the canoe, dragging Sokka by his harness, and grabs the strange wooden stick GranGran had given them before they left. Lirin’s staff, something she took off a dead boy she and Dad had found the day of Katara’s birth.</p>
<p>How many times had Katara heard the story? The strange iceberg. The boy, set adrift in the ice floe, a proper Water Tribe funeral. Mom, teasing Dad about missing the birth of their second child because the kayak had been destroyed.</p>
<p>“Katara, what?” Sokka complains. “We do not need the extra weight.”</p>
<p>“I need it,” Katara says, clutching the staff to her chest, “I don’t - Sokka, we can’t go up without it.”</p>
<p>Sokka gives her a look, stomps over, and snatches the staff out of her hands, weighing it, checking the balance. “Fine,” he says shortly. “Secure it to my bag. Evenly, Katara.”</p>
<p>“I know,” she says. “Weight distribution.”</p>
<p>Sokka sighs. Katara messes with the leather strap, trying to make sure the staff won’t slip free. It has a funny, bumpy edge to it, so she feels a little bit more secure than if it were completely smooth.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” she says, voice small. Sokka isn’t very spiritual. And this is all so confusing. No answers just… dreams, feelings. He doesn’t like waterbending, let alone… whatever is happening to Katara now.</p>
<p>Sokka’s shoulders slump. “Don’t mention it,” he says.</p>
<p>Katara’s mouth flexes, but she nods. “Okay,” she says, patting his shoulders. “Weird stick secured. Let’s go.”</p>
<p>The Air Temple is in the center of the mountain range, Katara thinks. She can’t see it anymore, not this close to the foot of it. She can barely see the sky for the mountain peaks.</p>
<p>“We’ll want to climb as little as possible,” Sokka says, leading her to the beginning of the vertical assent. “We can hike up here for a bit… and then, when we hit that cliff, we want to aim for the lowest point, and keep moving. No point in summiting anything if we have to, there’s too many peaks.”</p>
<p>The hike grows steep and slippery beneath their mukluks, but not slippery enough to pull the crampons out of Sokka’s pack until they’ve hit sheer rock. The spikes are for ice climbing, and concentrate on the toe. Not for gripping slippery flatland.</p>
<p>By the time they reach the first sliff, Katara is growing nervous about how different this all is from ice climbing.</p>
<p>“Okay,” Sokka says, looking back at her and then glaring at the sheer rock like this is just another tigerseal hunt, like all he’s doing is planning an ambush and he isn’t nervous at all, “Remember the plan. three screws, then you pass them up.”</p>
<p>“Yes, oh wise and experienced mountain climbing sage,” Katara snarks, patting the bag secured to her rope harness. </p>
<p>The ice pegs go into the rock with a few smacks from the hammer, and some determined twisting to screw them into the rock. There’s little in the way of handholds, but the tips of the ice axes catch well enough that Sokka is able to rise twenty feet, find a place to secure his feet, force the next peg into the cliff, loop their rope through the hollow knob at the end, and keep going.</p>
<p>Katara tightens her grip around her axes and follows.</p>
<p>There are things she learns over the next few hours. Namely, that getting ice pegs in rock is exhausting, that taking them out is hard, that climbing around a kilometer of sheer vertical cliffs, one after another, is <i>exhausting</i>. More than once, they ignore caution entirely, and hang from their ropes to give their arms a rest.</p>
<p>“This is terrible,” Sokka informs her.</p>
<p>“Too late now!” Katara says brightly.</p>
<p>“You do realize we’re going to be doing this for around a week, right? Probably? We have no idea how long this could take. Turning back now is the best decision we could make.”</p>
<p>The sun sets earlier here. Barely, but still earlier. They sleep in actual darkness, lying on a small platform somewhere in the Potola mountains. </p>
<p>Sokka starts snoring almost as soon as he’s pulled the woven arctic camel blanket over himself, exhausted, Katara’s arms feel like overcooked sea prune stalks, and her head <i>aches</i> from the sunlight here, but she just can’t get to sleep. The wind this high up is powerful and frigid, like a gust on the open tundra.</p>
<p>
  <i>Katara.</i>
</p>
<p>Katara starts, turning. There’s no one there.</p>
<p><i>Katara</i>, says the wind, <i>Katara, follow me</i>.</p>
<p>Katara pulls her crampons back on, tying the straps tight enough that she can feel the squeeze against her ankles. She uses the strange staff to push herself up, standing, looking down at the valley below them, up at the peaks above them.</p>
<p><i>Katara</i>.</p>
<p>She taps the bottom of the staff against the stone, and sails unfold from the sides like wings with a crisp <i>snap</i>.</p>
<p>Katara.</p>
<p>“Katara?” Sokka asks, thick with sleep, and she can hear the rustle of the furs as he forces himself up. “Katara what are you doing?”</p>
<p>Katara wraps her hands around the struts of the sails and steps off the cliff.</p>
<p>“<i>Katara</i>!” Sokka screams. Something heavy slams into the glider from above, and warm arms wrap around her neck.</p>
<p><i>Katara</i>, whispers the wind. She tilts the glider to the left, each breath power for the glider to stay aloft. Sokka curses into her ear, wrapping his legs around her waist as he clings to the top of the glider.</p>
<p><i>This way</i>, says the wind, and she follows it. Sokka’s weight makes every turn sharper than it needs to be, forcing the nose of the glider down. She’s careful not to tip him off.</p>
<p>They glide between the mountain peaks, something extraordinary telling her where to go.</p>
<p>When they breach the mountains and see the Air Temple, she isn’t surprised. There’s no wonder in it. Just a warmth, a returning. A homecoming.</p>
<p><i>Katara</i>, whispers the voice.</p>
<p>“Katara, by the <i>moon</i>,” Sokka hisses right against her ear. “Can you hear me? Are you possessed?”</p>
<p>They skim the air, Katara carefully guiding them down over a courtyard, and abruptly realizes she doesn’t know how to land.</p>
<p>They hit the brick courtyard. Katara’s fingers shriek at the awkward angle as they bend, trying to cling to the glider. She cracks her head against something, biting her tongue hard, tasting blood. There’s a <i>thud</i> as Sokka gets thrown off, rolling.</p>
<p>By the time she’s stopped, slumped over the brick - where did the glider go? - she’s lost skin on her hands and chin, her tongue is bleeding, and she can’t see through the white sparks dancing in her eyes. Is her head bleeding? There’s a swollen egg where she hit a rock, or a brick, or <i>something</i>.</p>
<p>Sokka groans, forcing himself to his hands and knees, shaking his head. “Spirits, Katara.” he curses. “My <i>shoulder</i>. Oh, you’re bleeding.”</p>
<p>She is bleeding. A little bit. She spits to try and clear it, her tongue stinging and swollen. She’s too busy staring at her surroundings to care.</p>
<p>They’re in a courtyard, or maybe it’s a massive walkway, lined by snow covered trees. Above them are the towering spires Katara had seen in her dream, white and blue and gold, instead of red and ruined. There’s a terrace above her, where Monk Gyatso and he would launch cakes at the monks, and there should be lemurs and bison flying and he’s -</p>
<p>“Dead,” Katara says. “You’re dead.”</p>
<p>“Katara?” asks Sokka, offering her a hand up, even though his arms must still hurt from climbing. She takes it.</p>
<p>“This is the home of the previous Avatar,” she says. “He was trying to speak to me. I think.”</p>
<p>“So you <i>jumped</i> off a hundred foot drop?”</p>
<p>“No, he was an airbender, so it was more like a - Sokka, did you <i>jump after me</i>?”</p>
<p>“What?” Sokka asks, looking <i>deeply</i> uncomfortable. “It’s my job to look after you.”</p>
<p>“<i>That does not include dying with me</i>!”</p>
<p>“Well, next time, you’ll just have to not get possessed,” he says, nodding like that closes the issue. Katara stares after him, aghast, as he begins to scout out the air temple.</p>
<p>“Think they’ve got food?” he asks. “I left all our supplies on the flat.”</p>
<p>Katara screws up her eyes. <i>Boys</i>, she thinks angrily. <i>Boys are so dumb</i>.</p>
<p>They don’t find food. They find some fire nation helmets and mangled armor, and bones. So many bones. There’s a field of upturned stakes and boards Katara hesitantly identifies as an airball court.</p>
<p>They climb what would be a truly endless amount of stairs if they hadn’t scaled cliff after cliff just a few hours ago. It’s not even dawn yet, and Katara’s legs haven’t begun cramping from the climb.</p>
<p>Tomorrow is going to be <i>terrible</i>. How are they going to get down without their supplies? The sheer <i>number</i> of peaks and valleys they had flown over… the effortless control of the glider that Katara is not going to be able to mimic. </p>
<p>There’s a barren fountain, and a statue of a monk at the summit.</p>
<p>“Monk Gyatso,” Katara says. Reflexively, she ducks her head and shoulders in a bow.</p>
<p>“Are you possessed again?” Sokka asks, exhausted. “If you jump off the stairs, I <i>will</i> jump after you. And I might miss this time. You really going to do that to my sister?”</p>
<p>Katara punches at his bicep weakly, a nervous grin stretching across her mouth. “As if I could,” she reminds him. “You have the staff.”</p>
<p>“And I will continue to hold onto it until we are on flat ground.”</p>
<p>They keep walking. Sokka checks a few rooms, to look for delicious, cured meats, or so he says. Katara doesn’t. There’s only one room she needs to see.</p>
<p>“The Air Temple sanctuary,” Katara says. The door is tall and wide, a tree planted in one corner coiling around the lip of the wall. Built into the door is a massive coil of brass tubing and ceramic discs with the Air Nomad spiral carved into them.</p>
<p>“Cool,” says Sokka. “Sacred ground. Let’s go step on it.”</p>
<p>Katara sighs, glaring. Sokka grins, and kicks the door three times. It doesn’t budge.</p>
<p>“Let me,” she says, and then kicks the door. It still doesn’t move.</p>
<p>“Ow,” she says sadly, squeezing the toe of her mukluks. Sokka is going to vomit if he doesn’t stop laughing so hard.</p>
<p>A breeze kicks up around them, even though they’re in an enclosed hallway.</p>
<p>“Are you doing that?” Sokka asks. Katara puts her sore foot down, shaking her head.</p>
<p>A barely visible tunnel of air disturbs the center of the hallway, and then, suddenly, <i>deafeningly</i>, the brass vibrates, the blue ceramic disks one by one beginning to shake and flip to the back side, a painted purple with a funnel in the center that lets the air out with a belching, bellowing noise.</p>
<p>A flat piece in the center turns by one-quarter, standing vertical. The bellowing stops. Slowly, the door creaks open.</p>
<p>“Wow, thanks, I hate it.” says Sokka. Katara glares at him, stalking towards the dark interior of the Air sanctuary.</p>
<p>Inside the room- it’s cylindrical, and at least as tall as the first cliff they climbed- is a truly endless amount of statues. On the floor, against the walls, in the skinny cylindrical pillar in the center of the room. Statues. Men, women, in seemingly no order. But they’re dressed in a pattern, one after another, Air, Water, Earth, Fire.</p>
<p>“The Avatars,” she says, stopping before a statue of an old firebender. He’s missing a neighbor, the end of the spiral.</p>
<p>“That’s Avatar Roku,” comes a cheery voice from behind her. “He was the Avatar before me.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Aang is twelve years old. He already has the arrow shaped airbending tattoos of a master. He’s very kind, and very happy. He’s smiling.</p>
<p>He’s also dead. Katara can see the shape of the open doorway through his chest.</p>
<p>“There’s not a statue of me,” he says, standing next to Roku. “Because my people died before one could be created. Or I died before one could be created. One or the other.”</p>
<p>Katara is fourteen. She is older than her predecessor will ever be. By <i>years</i>.</p>
<p>“Huh,” says Sokka, now that he’s done swearing and throwing rocks through Aang. “<i>Huh</i>. So you… you’re dead. That’s why you didn’t stop the Fire Nation. That’s why… the war. You weren’t even here.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” says Aang immediately, holding up his hands. “I - I should have done something. But I only know airbending… I was supposed to learn water, but then.”</p>
<p>You died. </p>
<p>Not even Sokka is able to say it.</p>
<p>“But,” Aang says, smacking a fist into his open palm. “That’s done! Roku’s filled me in, you know? So I know - stuff, and you know things! And you’re here now, Katara! And I - I couldn’t do my duty. But I’ll help you! We’ll be a team!”</p>
<p>“You made Katara jump off a cliff!” Sokka accuses, pointing. “You - you lured her out here!”</p>
<p>Aang makes a nervous noise, scratching his bald head. “Sorry,” he says. “The Sanctuary is where I’m most present. I… needed to speak to you. Face to face.” he spreads his hands out wide. “Avatar to Avatar! You must be scared. I was scared. I didn’t want you to be alone.”</p>
<p>He’s only <i>twelve</i>. Katara remembers Dad leaving. How her entire world was ending. But she’s still here. She’s alive. She’s grown up - she can run a camp, organize the children, repair the tents and the clothes, spend days on a hunt and return hungry and empty handed, return happy and fat and carrying enough meat to save some for the winters. Aang will never get to be <i>anything</i> but a <i>kid</i>. Who died. His entire people - his entire <i>culture</i>. Gone.</p>
<p>“I’m glad, Aang,” Katara makes herself smile. “Thank you for looking after me.” </p>
<p>“Anytime!”</p>
<p>Sokka makes a frustrated noise, stomping his foot.</p>
<p>“I promise not to influence you again,” Aang adds hastily. “Roku said I shouldn’t. We’re supposed to guide from a distance,” he wiggled his fingers, making a mock spooky noise. “But you’re getting involved. And I - You shouldn’t be alone. Guiding from a distance is lame. And <i>boring</i>. And- you were climbing the cliffs! <i>Climbing</i>! You could have fallen. I wasn’t going to let you - or Sokka!” he tacks on. “I would have caught you if you missed, don’t worry. I was trying to be helpful.”</p>
<p>“Your help is appreciated, Aang,” Katara says gamely. “But please don’t do it again.”</p>
<p>“Monk’s honour!” Aang holds up his pinky finger and smiles.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>“Is he going to be following us now?” Sokka jabs his thumb back at the semi-transparent boy a few steps behind, staring back at the Temple with wide eyes like it’s the last time he’ll ever see it.</p>
<p>“I guess?” Katara shrugs. <i>Twelve</i>, spirits. She can’t forget what that means.</p>
<p>Sokka grunts, unimpressed. “Hey, Avatar?” he yells, Aang snapping to attention. “Are you going to be following us? People are going to notice, and it’s not going to end well.”</p>
<p>“Other people can’t see me,” Aang informs them, leaping over in a single, airy bound. “I don’t know why <i>you</i> can see me, actually. It’s only supposed to be Katara, who can.”</p>
<p>“Great,” says Sokka. “Just what I always wanted. <i>Ghosts</i>.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be a baby.” Katara says, holding out a hand imperiously. “Give me the staff.”</p>
<p>“Absolutely not,” says Sokka.</p>
<p>“How <i>else</i> are we going to get down?” Katara raises her brow. “In case you forgot, all our stuff is abandoned in the mountains?”</p>
<p>“I,” Sokka pauses, squinting. “Ah, spirits. <i>Can</i> you? Without Aang?”</p>
<p>“I,” now it’s Katara’s turn to pause. “Hm.”</p>
<p>In the end, Aang has to, effectively, take over. It feels different this time, now that Katara’s aware of what’s happening. Less like a veil has been cast over her eyes, less like sleep walking, and more like… making room, for Aang’s knowledge and experience to guide her.</p>
<p>It’s not hers. When they land on the little flat to collect their things, Katara tries to twine the wind around her fingers like Aang could do so easily, and can’t manage it at all.</p>
<p>Their little canoe is still tied to a rock. Sokka dramatically throws himself upon the ground once they land - without any concussions - and kisses a few of the rocks loudly. Katara snickers, and tells him to go collect wood for the campfire. They haven’t slept all night. They need a few hours of rest before they can keep rowing.</p>
<p>Aang, grinning, promises to keep watch. He’ll have to return to the Spirit Realm eventually to rest, but it can wait until she and Sokka are back on the water.</p>
<p>“It’s been a long time since I’ve been around other people,” he says. “Don’t worry! I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”</p>
<p>Katara smiles, and wishes someone had done the same for him.</p>
<p>---</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>next chapter: The Way of Honourable Men</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Way of Honourable Men</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“That’s Shomoh Harbour,” Aang says eagerly, pointing. The dark shape of large ships looms in the distance. “From there it’s a short trip to Chin, and from Chin you can get to Omashu in a few - er, I don’t actually know how fast walking is. I always travelled by bison. But that’s the trail we should take.”</p><p>“Shomoh, Chin, Omashu,” Sokka nods, putting more effort into the next pull of the oars. “How about the pole?”</p><p>Aang shrugs. “I’ve never been to the Northern Water Tribe,” he admits. “I was supposed to train in the south, since it’s pretty close. But Bumi will know what to do.” Aang frowns. “If he’s still alive.”</p><p>Katara softens, putting her hand on Aang’s shoulder. Or, hovering it around the place his shoulder would be, if he had a body.</p><p>He tires quickly, they’ve learned. For every hour he spends with them, he spends two intangible, resting in the Spirit Realm.</p><p>“You should rest,” Katara tells him gently. “It’ll take at least a few hours to get there, and we’ll need a guide.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Aang nods, flickering. “I’ll be back, okay? Don’t worry.”</p><p>The tide begins to pull them in when they get closer, their tiny canoe speeding across the uneven water. There’s no reason to even row, though Sokka keeps a hand on the shaft of one oar to steer.</p><p>“Those are big ships,” Katara says eventually. “Really big.”</p><p>Sokka shrugs. “The Earth Kingdom is really big.” he reminds her. “Dad always said they had weird buildings and carts, things we don’t need in the South.”</p><p>They get closer.</p><p>“Is it just me or do those ships look like the Fire Navy?” Sokka asks.</p><p>There’s a pause.</p><p>The second oar hits the water with a noisy splash, Sokka putting his shoulders into the very first stroke, turning the canoe around to row away.</p><p>The tide refuses to let them go.</p><p>Sokka curses. The most he can do is slow them down. “Can you?” he asks.</p><p>Katara dips her fingertips into the water and wills it to slow. To stop flowing. To flow the other way.</p><p>“It’s not working,” she admits, meeting Sokka’s wide eyes. “I think something is wrong with the tide here. I can’t make the water listen to me.”</p><p>Sokka curses, rowing smoothly and forcefully and doing almost nothing at all. “Aang!” he shouts at the cloudy sky. “<i>Aang</i>!”</p><p>“What?” Aang flickers into the center of the canoe, perched on the support strut. “Are you alright?”</p><p>“Oh, good,” says Sokka. “The tide won’t let go of the canoe! That’s a <i>Fire Navy</i> harbour. We can’t go there. <i>Katara</i> can’t go there. Do something!”</p><p>“Oh,” says Aang, leaping to his feet. “Oh no! We need a sail! I’ll make a headwind.”</p><p>Sokka pulls the oars back into the canoe, holding on to one side of a cloth blanket, Katara on the other. But when Aang wings up, thrusting his open palms at the blanket -</p><p>Nothing happens.</p><p>“Ah,” says Aang. “Katara?”</p><p>“I can’t hold the sail up by myself!” Sokka protests. </p><p>Aang winces. Katara looks at Sokka desperately.</p><p>He meets her eyes, and for a moment there’s the same raw panic she’s feeling reflected in his face. Then, his brow straightens, his jaw firms. He nods sharply. </p><p>“Okay,” Sokka barks, tugging the blanket away to fold it up. “Okay, new plan. Here’s the game plan. Katara, you and I are fur traders on the way to the Earth Kingdom. We didn’t realize this was a Fire Navy harbour until the tide pulled us in. We are <i>not</i> benders, not at all. It was an <i>accident</i>. We’re on our way to Chin, and we won’t be staying.”</p><p>“Will that <i>work</i>?” Katara asks, unable to quell the high thread of panic in her voice. “Sokka they killed Mom, they killed <i>all</i> the benders, every last one!”</p><p>“They won’t kill us,” Sokka takes her hand and squeezes. “Okay? I promise. We’re going to be fine. Sit down. Take off your parka, we have some plain tunics right? That way we won’t stick out as much.”</p><p>“I know some Fire Nation slang!” Aang chimes in. “When you meet someone - <i>woah</i>, Katara, don’t take off your clothes!”</p><p>“I’m getting changed!” she snaps, folding the heavy leather parka below her seat. “Turn around.”</p><p>---</p><p>They pull up to the Fire Nation harbour with little ceremony, Sokka threading the needle between two of the massive metal warships parked at the dock. Katara has to stand on her tip-toes to reach the lip of the dock, as it’s high off the water, pulling herself onto the hard, rough, grey surface with a grunt. There’s not much protection for her boney bits in the neutral-tones cloth tunics they’ve pulled one. Grit digs into her knees as she kneels down to accept the canoe lead from Sokka.</p><p>She tries not to feel like there’s a thousand eyes upon her back, or at least, she tries not to acknowledge them. She pulls Sokka up onto the dock, and together the two of them raise the canoe out of the water, careful not to tip their supplies.</p><p>“Okay,” says Sokka, settling the front end onto his shoulder. “You good? It’s kind of heavy.”</p><p>“I’m good,” Katara grunts, even though it’s <i>really</i> heavy. They have weeks’ worth of supplies still in the basin of the canoe.</p><p>They walk quickly across the harbour. Katara tries not to smile nervously at the people who stare and point, men in Fire Nation armor, just like the men who came to the village and -</p><p>She shakes her head and adjusts her grip on the canoe.</p><p>“Halt!” someone barks from behind them. Katara freezes, Sokka speeds up, and the canoe tips in their hands, crashing to the grey ground.</p><p>Katara curses, kneeling down and piling the furs and supplies back into the hull. She doesn’t see any damage, but no doubt Sokka is going to do a full inspection later. If there is a later.</p><p>“Identify yourselves,” barks a Fire Nation soldier with a truly unfortunate haircut and a terrible burn scar across his face. “Who are you and why are you here?”</p><p>Katara, kneeling, digs her fingertips into the soft fur of a snow leopardcaribou hide. Aang blows a raspberry at the soldier.</p><p>“Uh,” says Sokka, kneeling carefully down and helping pile their supplies back in the hull. “We’re, uh.”</p><p>“Nephew!” bellows another Fire Nation soldier, and old man with a creased, smiling face. “Making friends?”</p><p>“Uncle,” protests the soldier.</p><p>“Flameo, hotman!” Sokka blurts out, nodding to the older soldier. “We’re just uh, Katara, grab that otterpenguin skin. We’re hide traders.”</p><p><i>Flameo</i>, mouths the young soldier, looking very disgruntled. Thanks, Aang.</p><p>The old soldier laughs. “Hide traders? Why nephew.” he claps the younger soldier on the shoulder. “You should invite your friends up for tea! Do you like tea?” he asks, looking at Katara expectantly.</p><p>She nods and says, throat very dry “GranGran made a lot of tea.”</p><p>“Oh, good. Nephew, where are you manners? Take that end of the canoe for the poor lady. I am Iroh. What’s your name, miss? Did my nephew even ask. How rude of him,” he tuts. “Zuko, that’s no way to treat a lady.”</p><p>The young soldier glares at his uncle, stiff shouldered. Sokka and Katara share an incredulous look. Aang gives them a thumbs up.</p><p>“Uncle,” the soldier grinds out, glaring at Katara. “They’re - ”</p><p>“Hide traders, yes, clearly back on an expedition. Don’t make that face, Zuko, it’s an honourable profession. Katara, if you’d allow my nephew to assist you?”</p><p>What.</p><p>Katara shares another wild-eyed look with Sokka.</p><p>“Hurry now,” Iroh urges, waving his nephew to brush Katara away from the sloppily packed canoe. “General Zhao won’t like this. Let’s get you onto the ship.</p><p>“If you know it’s a bad idea,” the young soldier - Zuko- grinds out, setting the canoe on his shoulder like it weighs little more than a toddler. “<i>Why</i> are you making me do this?”</p><p>“Because, nephew,” sighs the old man, taking Katara’s elbow. “This way, my lady. Katara, yes? And your partner?”</p><p>Katara stares at this Fire Nations soldier’s kindly face, incredulous.</p><p>“It’s Sokka,” says Sokka, from the rear of the canoe. “Her older brother.”</p><p>“What wonderful friends you have, nephew,” Iroh says loudly, leading them over to the smallest warship at the dock.</p><p><i>What</i>, Katara mouths at Aang, who shrugs, just as confused as she is apparently.</p><p>The… pointy bit at the front of the ship is already lowered, allowing them to ascend into the belly of the ship.</p><p>Too late to turn back. Iroh’s hand on her elbow is hot, too hot. The grip of a firebender.</p><p>“Please don’t kill us,” Katara whispers under her breath as the shadow of the ship comes over them. “The tide was too strong to row back. It was an accident.”</p><p>Iroh’s grip tightens for a moment. “Do not worry, my lady!” he says jovially. “We mean you no harm.”</p><p>Katara makes a low, nervous noise, but allows him to lead her into the ship.</p><p>“This way,” says Iroh, leading her down one of the hallways.</p><p>“We don’t have extra rooms,” Zuko says sourly. “Uncle, there’s no where to put them.”</p><p>“Nonsense,” Iroh says lightly. “We must make room for our guests, nephew. They will take my room.”</p><p>“Uncle!” squawks Zuko. </p><p>“That’s too much,” says Katara immediately, even though it means agreeing with a Fire Nation soldier.</p><p>“Nonsense!” Iroh protests, refusing to slow when Katara tries to plant her feet. “As the second highest ranking officer upon this ship, no one shall enter my quarters. There’s space enough for you, your brother, and your things. It will be fine, my lady.”</p><p>“Iroh,” Katara protests.</p><p>“Second highest?” Sokka asks. “Who’s the highest?”</p><p>“I am,” snaps the angry soldier with the bad haircut.</p><p>“Oh, good,” says Aang. “So things worked out! Go team!”</p><p><i>Not the time</i>, Katara mouths, shooting Iroh a quick grin at his curious glance.</p><p>Apparently ignoring her overall weirdness, Iroh stops outside of a door that looks exactly the same as all the other doors. “Here we are,” he says, pulling open the door with a squeak of old metal. “After you, my lady.”</p><p>“It’s just Katara,” Katara says, nonetheless flattered, walking past him. His single room is bigger than any tent or igloo in the village, with a thick, plush rug on the floor and red and black banners on the wall. There’s some kind of shrine tucked against the wall, with unlit candles and expensive looking statues. His bed, Katara thinks, is probably bigger than the entire infirmary in the south pole,</p><p>“Put the boat against the wall, please.” he says. “This is my room. I’m afraid you won’t be able to wander too much.”</p><p>“You could cram our entire village in here and have space for the walls,” Sokka makes the words sound like an insult, an indulgence.</p><p>“Wonderful!” Iroh smiles. “You’ll be very comfortable.”</p><p>“Uncle,” complains Zuko, apparently a high ranking Fire Nation soldier. “Must we?”</p><p>“Helping your friends - ”</p><p>“<i>Not</i> my friends - ”</p><p>“Helping your <i>friends</i>,” Iroh says forcefully “Does not harm the Fire Nation in any way, nephew. And leaving a poor young girl and her brother alone and in danger is not the way of honourable men.”</p><p>Zuko looks taken aback, staring at his uncle wide-eyed, before glancing to the side and frowning.</p><p>Iroh turns back to Katara and Sokka by default, because he’s glaring at the fire-patterned tapestry on the wall. “I will bring food. You must be hungry. You mentioned tea? Would you happen to have some with you? I have never tried Water Tribe tea, and I admit to some curiosity.”</p><p>“We have a tin,” Katara admits. Iroh, she thinks, is rather endearing. For a Fire Nation soldier. “It won’t be quite like how GranGran makes it, though.”</p><p>“It never is,” Iroh sighs dramatically, wiping a tear away from his eye. “Come now, nephew.  Let us leave our guests in peace.”</p><p>---</p><p>Iroh takes a sip of GranGran’s tea, makes a face, and swallows heavily.</p><p>Katara takes a dainty sip of her own, and sighs. Salt and brine and an earthy, herby aftertaste.“It’s not strong enough.”</p><p>“<i>This</i> is weak?” asks Iroh, aghast. </p><p>Katara nods, ignoring the look he gives the murky green water of his tea. “It’s supposed to be gritty,” she tells him. “But I always worry about using too much.” There’s a fine line between gritty and a sludgy, and no one wants to drink mud.</p><p>“<i>Gritty</i>?”</p><p>“You need to just go ham,” Sokka informs her, lounging on Iroh’s bed with his pants off, because it’s too damned <i>hot</i>, Katara, and men don’t wear <i>pants</i> Katara. “Add an extra spoonful in the cups.”</p><p>It <i>is</i> hot, Katara will give him that much. She’s sweating through her tunic, the wet woven cloth clinging to her uncomfortably. She doesn’t even want to drink GranGran’s tea, not really, because the hot water is just <i>unpleasant</i>.</p><p>Iroh hisses like an angry snow leopardcaribou. “<i>Gritty</i>? This is an affront! An offense! An insult to the good name of tea!”</p><p>“You can add butter to it, too.” Katara informs him helpfully, just to see what colour she can get his face to turn.</p><p>---</p><p>Katara, still wearing her sweat-soaked tunic, looks up at a heavy <i>thud</i> from the metal of the ship above them. There’s voices. Loud, deep, mens voices. Through the metal it’s all muffled and unclear, Katara can’t make out any actual <i>words</i>, just voices.</p><p>“Can you understand it?” she whispers. Sokka shakes his head, frowning. His eyes brighten suddenly and he practically runs for the massive… something. An ornate wooden box with a lot of little doors on it, and a mirror held in a carved frame, a hairbrush and a headpiece are left on the top. Sokka scrambles on top of it, stepping on a calligraphy brush.</p><p>“Damn,” he says, straining. “I was hoping I could press my ear to the ceiling.”</p><p>Katara’s mouth twitches. “You’re not<i>that</i> tall. Aang? Hey, Aang?”</p><p>Aang flickers into view in front of her. Katara smiles <i>hello</i> and points upward. “Do you think you can go and see what’s happened?” she asks.</p><p>“Oh!” Aang gives her a cheery grin. “Of course! Leave it to me.”</p><p>He flies through the ceiling. Of course he does.</p><p>“You know,” says Sokka. “That kid is starting to grow on me.”</p><p>“Get off the box and put some pants on.” Katara snaps, grinning. Sokka blows a raspberry at her, stepping off dramatically, arms splayed wide.</p><p>Aang sticks his head through the ceiling. “So! Sokka, where are your pants?”</p><p>“Not you too,” Sokka grouses.</p><p>“Aang?” Katara prompts.</p><p>“Right,” he shakes himself, slapping at his cheeks. “So, there’s a weird man with bad muttonchops on the bridge named Commander Zhao? And he says that Zuko was seen with two Water Tribe criminals? So he wants to search the ship?”</p><p>Cold fear runs down Katara’s spine. Search the ship- they’ll be discovered. And - they’re Water Tribe. They’ll be executed. No, not even executed. You have to be a <i>person</i> for it to be an execution, and the Fire Nation hasn’t considered the other nations <i>people</i> in a long time. They’d be put down instead, like a feral polar beardog.</p><p>She and Sokka share a look. Sokka gives her a tight smile.</p><p>“I promised nothing would happen to you,” he reminds her. “Aang, can you find us a way out of here?”</p><p>“I! Will do my best!” Aang’s head disappears, taking his blue light with him.</p><p>Katara smiles weakly at Sokka. “Does this mean you’ll put your pants back on?”</p><p>---</p><p>While Sokka is busy putting his pants back on, Katara repacks the canoe more securely, pulling a light leather dress over her wet clothes. The sea will be chilly, with the wind and the open water, no matter how hot she is now.</p><p>“Are you <i>sure</i> throwing the canoe over the edge and jumping down is a good idea?” Katara asks for the fifteenth time. “It’s a long drop.”</p><p>“It’s the best plan I’ve got.” Sokka admits, like that doesn’t mean it’s a bad plan in its own right. “Are you tying our supplies down? Good, we don’t want to lose anything.”</p><p>They pull the canoe back onto their shoulders, and Katara just knows this is going to be a shitshow in the cramped hallways of the warship. Sokka, taking the lead, presses his ear to the door before opening it.</p><p>He stiffens. “<i>Footsteps</i>,” he hisses. “Where’s Aang?”</p><p>Katara <i>would</i> shrug, but she doesn’t want to drop the canoe. Again.</p><p>The footsteps Katara can’t hear turn into voices that she can.</p><p>“<i>Down this way is only my and my uncle’s quarters,</i>” says Zuko <i>“I’m afraid I can’t permit you to enter them</i>.”</p><p>“<i>Oh</i>?” says an unknown, male voice. Katara feels her skin crawl at the sound of him, like honey wasps on the back of her neck. “<i>As I told you, Prince Zuko, this search is to ensure the safety of your crew. We wouldn’t want any… unfortunate accidents</i>.”</p><p><i>Prince</i> Zuko.<i> Prince</i>.</p><p>How many royal families does the Fire Nation have? Katara can think of only one.</p><p>They’re going to <i>die</i>. And she’s not even a waterbender. The next Avatar will be even more lost than she is.</p><p>“<i>My uncle and I are not fools, Commander Zhao</i>.” Zuko spits, his voice louder now with proximity. “<i>Our personal quarters are off limits to you</i>.”</p><p>Katara puts her free hand to her mouth. Is he defending them? No, he couldn’t be. They’re just Water Tribe. He’s a <i>prince</i>.</p><p><i>Katara</i>, Sokka mouths, shifting the canoe. Confused, Katara helps him lower it to the rug and drag it so it’s half hidden behind the ornate wooden box without making any noise.</p><p>Sokka pulls out two of the ice axes, tossing one to Katara and standing to the side of the door, ready to strike out with the axe at the first person who comes in.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Katara stands at the other side of the door. She tries to feel like a righteous Avatar, and largely fails.</p><p>The circular lock on the door turns a centimeter. Katara tightens her grip on the axe. There’s a rough noise of rage.</p><p>“<i>Commander Zhao</i>,” Zuko snarls “<i>First you insinuate I would take enemy Water Tribe citizens on my ship. Then, you imply I am incompetent enough to miss a stowaway. Now, you insult the honour of my uncle and of his private sanctuary. I am warning you. Remove your hand.</i>”</p><p>“<i>You dare threaten me</i>?” Commander Zhao spits.</p><p>“<i>Not a threat</i>,” Zuko responds. <i>Prince</i> Zuko responds. “<i>A response, to your insult</i>.”</p><p>“<i>And what does this response entail</i>?” Commander Zhao asks, voice low and dangerous.</p><p>“<i>An Agni Kai. At sunset</i>.”</p><p>There’s a pause. Agni Kai?</p><p>“<i>Very well</i>,” Commander Zhao responds, voice silky and sinuous like an arctic glacier snake. “<i>It’s a shame your father won’t be here to watch me humiliate you. I suppose your uncle will do. And then I will prove that you are a traitor, once and for all</i>.”</p><p>Zuko makes a wordless noise of rage. Heavy footsteps start up and fade, the men outside the door walking away.</p><p>“Holy moon,” Katara whispers. “Did the Fire Lord’s son just save our lives?”</p><p>Sokka gives her a look of dramatic and utter betrayal. “At <i>best</i> he stopped a fight.” he says, “We would have been fine.”</p><p>“Uh huh,” Katara says. “You keep telling yourself that.”</p><p>---</p><p>Iroh and Zuko join them for a dinner of what must be Fire Nation cuisine, what Iroh calls yú xīang qié zi. Katara puts a strip of something called eggplant in her mouth and decides she likes it even though it doesn’t taste very much like eggs. Both Zuko and Iroh are fairly quiet and drawn, with creases between their brows.</p><p>Katara waits until everyone has cleaned their plates, Zuko - Prince Zuko - pushing some red strips that were fairly sweet to the rim of his plate in refusal.</p><p>Sokka gives him a squinty look and steals the strips right off Zuko’s plate with his fingers.</p><p>“Hey,” Zuko complains, pulling the plate to his chest.</p><p>“You’re not eating them!” Sokka complains. “Come on!”</p><p>“Absolutely not,” says Zuko, sneering. </p><p>Katara raises a hand. “Can I?”</p><p>Zuko, giving Sokka a significant look, allows Katara to steal the rest of the red things off his plate. Katara grins and puts the entire fistful into her mouth at once.</p><p>Sokka gasps in dramatic betrayal, smacking himself hard enough on the chest that he breaks off to wheeze. Katara snickers, offering a rude gesture in apology,</p><p>“So rude,” says Sokka. “I can’t believe this. Betrayed by my only sister. My flesh and blood. My -”</p><p>“You ate all the akutaq!”</p><p>“Yes, and it was delicious,” he says, unrepentant.</p><p>Katara swallows the last of the red things and sticks her tongue out at him. “Sorry,” she says to Zuko and Iroh. “My brother was dropped down a crevasse as a baby.”</p><p>“No apologies needed,” Iroh says gamely, some of the stress lines on his aging face easing. “It is good to see you are so close.”</p><p>Katara smiles at him, genuine, and turns to Zuko. “I wanted to thank you for defending us from Commander Zhao. I don’t know what an…” Katara frowns, racking her brain “An Angry pie? Accidental fry? I’m just saying words now. I don’t know what it is… but whatever it is, you have my gratitude.”</p><p>Zuko scoffs, rolling his eyes - eye, the burned one half shut, milky, and motionless. “I didn’t do it for you. Commander Zhao can’t get away with disrespecting my crew like that. Everyone here is loyal to the Fire Nation.”</p><p>“<i>Riiight</i>,” drawls Sokka. “Well. Whatever. Thanks, I guess. We still would have been fine.”</p><p>Zuko scoffs.</p><p>Aang, poking his head in from the ceiling - still looking for a way out of the warship that they can get the canoe through without being spotted - laughs, and says “Sokka, there’s like twenty firebenders on this ship.”</p><p>“We still would have been fine,” Sokka reiterates.</p><p>No one seems to have noticed Aang. Not even Iroh or Zuko, though Aang has drifted down to sit next to them. It seems Aang was right, that Sokka being able to perceive him was some kind of cosmic fluke.</p><p>“Sure,” says Zuko. “Whatever you say, <i>hide trader</i>. I bet you wouldn’t know the pommel from the shaft on a naginata.”</p><p>Katara, who didn’t understand any of that, offers Zuko a tight smile and slaps her hand over Sokka’s mouth before he can get them in more trouble. Why. <i>Why</i>. You think Sokka would understand that pissing off the <i>Fire Lord’s son</i> is a bad idea.</p><p><i>It’s a shame your father won’t be here to watch me humiliate you. I suppose your uncle will do</i>.</p><p>Bastard. </p><p>“If there’s anything we can do to help with the… Annie Sky, please tell us.” Katara offers.</p><p>“Agni Kai,” Zuko corrects, looking exhausted more than anything, explains “It’s a one on one firebending match. If you want to help, stay here and stay quiet.”</p><p>Terrifying, thanks. Katara would literally rather eat rocks than interfere in a firebending match between a prince and a commander of the Fire Nation military.</p><p>“We will do that,” says Sokka, clearly in agreement. “Gladly. No one will ever know we were on a Fire Nation ship. Ever. In fact, I think even we will forget about it in time.”</p><p>“Ideal,” says Zuko.</p><p>“Must you?” Katara asks. “Must you flirt? Right here? Right in front of my yú- yue… right in front of my dinner!?”</p><p>Zuko makes a disgusted noise. “We’re not flirting!”</p><p>Sokka just raises an eyebrow, smirking. “You’re done eating,” he points out. “I could take my pants back off.”</p><p>“No one needs to see your spindly foxheron legs, you absolute sea prune.”</p><p>---</p><p>Katara and Sokka wait in the bedroom while the Agni Kai happens above. Aang has given up looking for a sneaky way out of the warship, switching to following Commander Zhao around and mocking him silently from his ethereal perch while he readies for the Agni Kai.</p><p>Sokka, wearing his pants, and Katara, also wearing pants because why on earth would she take her pants off in a Fire Nation warship no matter how sweaty and disgusting her clothes are, wait by the sides of the door into Iroh’s bedroom, ice axes at the ready.</p><p>They can’t hear much of anything at all. Which is why Aang’s head appearing out of the ceiling makes Katara startle, Sokka reflexively striking out <i>at the ceiling</i> with his axe.</p><p>It doesn’t do much.</p><p>“It’s over!” Aang tells them, waving his hands at the floor. “It was amazing! There was so much fire! And Zuko won, so Zhao’s leaving the ship all mad and stuff. Like, <i>woah</i> he didn’t want to lose. Zuko’s a really good firebender!”</p><p>“Yes!” Sokka leaps to his feet, punching the air. “That’s our boy!”</p><p>What a <i>dork</i>. Katara crosses her arms, grinning up at him sunnily.</p><p>“You do know our boy is the prince of the Fire Nation.”</p><p>Sokka flinches, pulling his arm back to his chest.</p><p>“Yeah,” he says. “I know.”</p><p>Katara purses her lips, looking at one of Iroh’s fire banners well. “Well,” she says lightly, a little awkward. “I guess he’s got his head on alright. I mean, Iroh seems nice. Maybe they’re not quite as insane as the rest of the Fire Nation,”</p><p>Not like the men who kidnapped and murdered the southern waterbenders. Who killed mom.</p><p>“I know - knew firebenders!” Aang chimes in. “I had this one friend - nevermind. A hundred years ago, most firebenders were pretty nice. Maybe Zuko is too.”</p><p>“We still shouldn’t count on it,” Sokka says, sitting back down. “But yeah. That’d be nice. I mean, you’re going to need a firebending teacher eventually.”</p><p>“Yeah!” Katara brightens, pulling at the sweat-soaked neck of her tunic, “Maybe then I can lower the temperature. Or maybe that’s waterbending.”</p><p>“That’s be nice,” sighs Sokka in imagined future comfort. He’s flushed ruddy on his brown cheeks, because he needs to wear more layers than she does for his chest. And since he can’t take his pants off - they need to be ready to run at any time - he’s suffering more than she is.</p><p>They sit in the near silence for a while, slumped on the floor by Iroh’s door, still loosely cradling the ice axes. Katara picks at a piece of fraying leather wrapped around the handle of hers.</p><p><i>You’re going to need a firebending teacher eventually</i>, Sokka said, like it’s the easiest thing in the world for him to imagine. Like Katara firebending doesn’t fill him with fear. It even scares her, a bit. </p><p>“Thanks,” she says quietly. “I know you don’t like bending.”</p><p>Sokka punches her loosely on the shoulder. “You’re my sister,” he says, tipping his head back against the metal wall. “So - I don’t like it. I mean, I don’t <i>understand</i> it. All this flying, and magic. I’m just a guy with a boomerang. But I’m here for you.”</p><p>Well. There’s nothing much to say to that, so she dumps her ice axe off her laps and hugs him, even though they’re both sweaty and disgusting and Sokka’s skin is burning hot against hers.</p><p>“Katara!” he complains. She squeezes him tighter.</p><p>“You’re a good brother,” she says, muffled against his shoulder, “We’re going to be okay.”</p><p>Sokka sighs, stops squirming, and loosely hugs her back, just the tips of his fingers touching near her sweaty spine, “Yeah, Katara,” he reminds her. “That’s what I’ve been <i>saying</i>.”</p><p>---</p><p>Zuko, shirtless - and <i>boy</i>, he’s <i>pretty</i>, and Katara catches Sokka staring at Zuko’s chest more than once - informs them that Commander Zhao has been dealt with and that they will be disembarking shortly.</p><p>“We’re going north,” he says sourly, rubbing at one of the gold circlets around his bicep. “We’ll drop you off near an Earth Kingdom harbour.</p><p>“Thank you,” Katara says “Truly.”</p><p>Zuko glares at her, like she’s insulting his manly manliness by insinuating he helped them in any way and leaves with a huff.</p><p>“That’s like, my ideal chest.” Sokka tells her.</p><p>“Sure,” Katara teases. “<i>That’s</i> why you were staring.”</p><p>---</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>poor iroh lmao<br/>wrangling a bunch of scared teens</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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